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Contents
xiii
31 Special Trauma Cases and Damage Control Surgery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .253
Caitlyn McCall and Lisa L. Schlitzkus
32 Trauma Team Decision-Making . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
Nada Gawad, Nori L. Bradley, Larissa Roux, and S. Morad Hameed
33 Emergency Critical Care Procedures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .277
Paul B. McBeth and S. Morad Hameed
34 REBOA and Novel Hemorrhage Control Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
Nori L. Bradley, Shaun Cowan, and Megan Brenner
35 Interventional Radiology in Trauma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299
Andrew Kiraly, Kris Peet, and Jason Wong
36 Communication and Leadership in the Operating Room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
Thomas Blanks and Simon Denning
37 Pain Management in the Trauma Patient . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315
Javier Webar, Tom Hall, and Sebastian Layera
38 Trauma Resuscitation in the Health Information Technology Age . . . . . . . . . . . . 323
Jenna Kroeker, Barak Raguan, Olivia Hunter, Patricia Balmes, Larissa Roux, Harvey G. Hawes, and S. Morad Hameed
39 Telemedicine and Future Innovation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .333
Corry J. Kucik, J. Jonas Carmichael, and William P. Mulvoy III
40 Human Factors of Teleresuscitation and Telementoring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
Lauren Hampton and Lawrence Marshall Gillman
Part IV Specialized Trauma Populations
41 Trauma in Pregnancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .345
Alexandra Marseu, Michelle L. Morais, Lua R. Eiriksson, and Paul T. Engels
42 Medical Comorbidities and Trauma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357
Harvey G. Hawes and Renée-Anne Poirier
43 Advanced Neuromonitoring for Moderate and Severe
Traumatic Brain Injury . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
Carleen Batson, Logan Froese, Alwyn Gomez, Amanjyot Singh Sainbhi, and Frederick A. Zeiler
Part V Emergency Ultrasound and Trauma Imaging
44 Basic Trauma Ultrasound. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381
Markus Ziesmann, Andrew W. Kirkpatrick, and Lawrence Marshall Gillman
45 Trauma Ultrasound: Beyond the FAST Examination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .389
Michael Blaivas, Ashot E. Sargsyan, and Dimitrios Karakitsos
46 Imaging in the Stable Trauma Patient . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399
Bradley S. Moffat and Neil G. Parry
47 Advanced Considerations in Cross- Sectional Imaging in Trauma . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
Signy Holmes
xiv
Part VI Tactical Emergency and Disaster Medicine
48 Disaster Medicine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417
Michelangelo Bortolin and Gregory R. Ciottone
49 The Multi-casualty Trauma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .423
Daniel Roizblatt, Amin Madani, Tarek Razek, and Kosar Khwaja
50 Critical Incident Team Dynamics and Logistics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .431
Jeremy W. Cannon, Jose L. Pascual, and Lewis J. Kaplan
51 Terrorism and Urban Trauma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 443
Jose L. Pascual, Jeremy W. Cannon, and Lewis J. Kaplan
52 Tactical Emergency Medicine, Procedures and Point-of-Care
Evaluation in Austere Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 453
Michael Blaivas, Ashot E. Sargsyan, and Dimitrios Karakitsos
53 An Introduction to Tactical Medicine Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .457
William Guse, Shaun Cowan, Andrew Beckett, and Kenji Inaba
54 Hypothermia and the Trauma Team . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 473
Susan Marjorie Roberts, Sean Lynch, Dean Gubler, and Anthony J. LaPorta
55 Burns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 479
Adam Padalko, Rae Paulene Spiwak, and Sarvesh Logsetty
Contents
56 War Zones and Biological Weapons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 487
Jason D. Heiner and William Hurley
57 Nuclear Injuries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 493
Mansoor Ali Khan and Heidi L. Frankel
58 Trauma and Surgical Capabilities for Space Exploration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 497
David J. Alexander
59 Logistical Transformation of Healthcare Systems in the COVID-19 Era . . . . . . . 511
Jaffar A. Al-Tawq and Ziad A. Memish
60 Trauma in the Setting of a Pandemic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 519
Niels D. Martin and Lily Tung
Part VII Trauma Team Education
61 Designing a Simulation Curriculum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 531
Jason Park, Reagan L. Robertson, and Ashley S. Vergis
62 Simulation Scenario Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 537
J. Damian Paton-Gay, Peter G. Brindley, and Lawrence Marshall Gillman
63 Constructive Debriefing for Trauma Team Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .547
Adam Cheng, Vincent Grant, and Naminder Sandhu
64 Program Evaluation and Assessment of Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 553
Vicki R. LeBlanc and Walter Tavares
65 Teaching Technical and Procedural Skills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 559
Garrett G. R. J. Johnson and Ashley S. Vergis
66 Competency-Based Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 567
Brett Mador
Contents
xv
67 Simulation Center Design, Development, and Management . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 575
Susan Carter and Tariq Al Shanteer
68 The Story of “Hyper-Realism”: From Hollywood to the Bedside . . . . . . . . . . . . . 591
Kit Lavell and Lawrence Marshall Gillman
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 601
Part I
Trauma Team Preparation
A Culture ofSafety: Evolution oftheS.T.A.R.T.T.Course
LawrenceMarshall Gillman, J.DamianPaton-Gay, PaulT.Engels, andSandyWidder
1
The Simulated Trauma and Resuscitation Team Training (S.T.A.R.T.T.) Course is a multidisciplinary trauma team training course designed to teach non-technical (crisis resource management) skills to all trauma team members involved in the care of the multi-injured patient, including prehospital personnel (emergency medical technicians and paramedics), nurses, respiratory therapists, physician assis­tants, nurse practitioners, emergency physicians, anaesthe­tists and surgeons.

History

The S.T.A.R.T.T. course evolved from humble beginnings. The course foundation was initially devised in 2010 by two keen staff surgeons (LG and SW) who had completed their Trauma/Critical Care training and realized there was a need for optimizing trauma team dynamics during resuscitations. With the burgeoning national Royal College Acute Critical Events Simulation (ACES) course (now under the auspices of the Canadian Critical Care Society) [1] and monthly local crisis simulations, critical care training had embraced Crisis Resource Management (CRM) principles; however, trauma
L. Marshall Gillman (*) Departments of Surgery Section of General Surgery, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, MB, Canada
Internal Medicine Section of Critical Care, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, MB, Canada e-mail: Lawrence.Gillman@umanitoba.ca
J. D. Paton-Gay · S. Widder Department of Surgery, University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB, Canada e-mail: patongay@ualberta.ca
P. T. Engels Departments of Surgery and Critical Care Medicine, McMaster University, Hamilton, ON, Canada e-mail: engelsp@mcmaster.ca
and surgical training was lagging behind. The course was started at their local institutions in Edmonton and Winnipeg as a way to improve general surgery resident trauma training specically focussing on non-technical skills training. The success of this concept locally quickly led to the educational expansion to a national platform, but prior to implementa­tion, the foundations needed to be established.
A needs analysis of general surgery program directors
across the country was undertaken. The response rate was
64.7% (11 of 17). Only a minority of programs had CRM training and trauma simulation as part of their local curri­cula. The vast majority saw value in this training, however, and supported the creation of a national curriculum and training program [2].
This led to the formation of the S.T.A.R.T.T. course com­mittee and a discussion about the format, content and cur­riculum of the initial pilot course. It quickly became clear that training residents in isolation would do little to improve the actual functioning of the full trauma team. While many CRM training programs included non-physician team mem­bers in their simulations, most were confederates whose roles were to support resident learning but not necessarily act as learners. This prompted us to expand the planned S.T.A.R.T.T. course to a multidisciplinary model where all participants enter each simulation blindly and are treated as equal participants. Not only was the premise to enhance team trust, but also to reect the reality of the unpredictable nature of trauma, highlighting team dynamics that were not previ­ously apparent. The inaugural S.T.A.R.T.T. course was held in conjunction with the Canadian Surgery Forum in Calgary on September 12, 2012. Twenty general surgery residents (PGY 1–6), ve practicing nurses and four respiratory thera­pists participated in the course supported by eleven instruc­tors. These participants represented eight universities from six different Canadian provinces, with all the respiratory therapists and nurses from local hospitals. The course was overwhelmingly well received with 97.5% of participants rating the course as “good” or “excellent” and 97.5% recom-
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2025 L. Marshall Gillman, S. Widder (eds.), Trauma Team Dynamics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-86312-7_1
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L. Marshall Gillman et al.
mending it to others. On pre- and post-course testing, all groups also showed a signicant improvement in attitudes towards CRM principles specically within the domains of teamwork and safety climate [2].
While the bulk of the feedback was positive, there were constructive criticisms as well. Most importantly, even though the non-physician participants were told they were equal participants, some felt the simulation cases, and debriefs were still physician-centric, and they did not truly feel like true participants and team members. Over the ensu­ing courses, extensive work was done to overhaul the sce­narios, including obtaining input from non-physician stakeholders. Learning objectives and tasks were created for each participating discipline and unique scenario designs were created, including distance simulations and staggered entry scenarios in order to engage non-physician participants and improve the experience for all. Not only did these changes accomplish these goals, they broadened the learning objectives and added important layers to the debriefs [3]. These will be discussed in more detail later in the chapter on Multidisciplinary Simulation Design.
One of the most well received and benecial changes we made was to our instructor assignments. As is common with simulation courses, we initially had instructors assigned to each simulation scenario and the participants rotated as a team from scenario to scenario. While this allowed instructors to become familiar with their stations the participants felt they were receiving signicant repeti­tion in the content of the debrief from scenario to scenario. We therefore made a change, assigning one of our senior instructors, termed a “team coach” or “team navigator”, to spend the day with each team. Other instructors were assigned to individual simulation stations. This had multi­ple immediate benets. First, it allowed a single instructor to get to know the group for the duration of the day. The coach was tasked with leading all the debriefs and therefore could build on lessons learned from the previous scenario while helping their team focus on areas of weakness or new areas in subsequent scenarios. It also built rapport between the debriefer and the team members, and ensured a culture of safety so that the debriefer could understand personali­ties, unique team dynamics, and bring out comments from all team members. We also ensured that our team coaches had received formal debrieng training to ensure they were skilled to control the room and the post simulation debrief maintaining a balanced discussion that identied and closed performance gaps.
As the course content developed, two distinct versions of the course emerged. The rst was the standard course, involving physicians, respiratory therapists, nurses and phy-
sician assistants. The second was an expanded course incor­porating pre-hospital personnel as part of the participating groups. This addition was extremely well received as it not only incorporated mass casualty management and transport issues, it also added an additional layer of communication and handover. The format brought together two distinct groups of practitioners (hospital and prehospital personnel) that frequently interact and work together but rarely, if ever, train together [4].
In 2017, we introduced the surgical cut suit, otherwise known as “Human Worn Partial Task Surgical Simulators” (Strategic Operations, Inc.), as a routine component of the course. This one-piece zip-up suit is worn by standardized patients and takes the place of classic mannequin-based sim­ulation. The cut suit allows for procedures including crico­thyroidotomy, chest tube insertion, laparotomy and even ED thoracotomy to be performed directly (and safely) on a live, talking actor, enhancing both conceptual and physical real­ism. This addition was similarly met with overwhelming support, as more than 70% of participants reported the suits as an essential part of the course and more than 90% reported the suits as valuable to the course and an improvement in course realism [5].

Documented Outcomes

To date, we have held 17 courses in major trauma centres across Canada and an international course in Melbourne, Australia. We have trained over 300 trauma providers and have more than 50 trained instructors. We held our rst French language course in Quebec City. The challenge of running a communication course for francophone partici­pants coached by predominantly anglophone faculty was a welcome and rewarding learning experience for the course leadership [6].
The ideal venue for S.T.A.R.T.T. courses remains an area of debate. The majority of S.T.A.R.T.T. courses to date have been held at large national and international meetings. However, we have also run a number of local courses, notably in Winnipeg and Montreal, involving local trauma teams. Running smaller local courses has the advantage of training teams that work together on a regu­lar basis, improving the camaraderie and non-technical skills of established teams while fostering further local work and innovation. On the opposite side, holding courses at larger national and international meetings brings together participants (and experts) from multiple centres, each offering their own local avour and exper­tise with the ability for participants to return to their own
1 A Culture ofSafety: Evolution oftheS.T.A.R.T.T.Course
centres with new shared knowledge. The reality is that there is no perfect model. Using local courses to reinvigo­rate the culture of safety and ongoing quality improve­ment at the site level, while using larger national courses to share information and maintain a cohesive trauma com­munity are likely both worthwhile endeavours.

Future Direction

With the COVID-19 pandemic, the S.T.A.R.T.T. course reached a crossroads. The feasibility of a large-scale, in­person, training curriculum was unclear in that challeng­ing environment. Thankfully it seems we have weathered the pandemic and restarting larger courses at national and international meetings seems possible again. However, the COVID pandemic has allowed us to con­sider other shifts in philosophy for the S.T.A.R.T.T. course. As with all challenges, there is an opportunity for innovation. We are currently looking at hybrid mod­els using virtual platforms to offer simulation over dis­tance and training local trauma teams from multiple institutions simultaneously [7]. This may allow us to share knowledge across the national and international communities, while allowing local teams to hone their responses within the culture and environment of their home facilities. With technological development, other potential avenues of pursuit may include courses held in virtual reality environments, allowing for participants across vast distances to simulate together in a virtual classroom.
Regardless of how S.T.A.R.T.T. evolves to meet this new challenge, the need for continual training and updating of our trauma practitioners remains. After all, trauma care is the ultimate high-performance team sport, and no team gets bet­ter without dedicated practice.
5
Key Points
• A trauma crisis resource management team training course adds important skills not currently available elsewhere.
• The structure and venue of this course will need to continue to evolve as this training becomes more widely available and ubiquitous.

References

1. Canadian Critical Care Society. About National Acute Critical Event Simulation (N-ACES). https://www.canadiancriticalcare.
org/N- ACES. Accessed 9 Nov 2022.
2. Ziesmann MT, Widder S, Park J, Kortbeek JB, Brindley P, Hameed M, etal. S.T.A.R.T.T.: development of a national, multidisciplinary trauma crisis resource management curriculum-results from the pilot course. J Trauma Acute Care Surg. 2013;75:753–8. https://doi.
org/10.1097/TA.0b013e3182a925df.
3. Gillman LM, Brindley P, Paton-Gay JD, Engels PT, Park J, Vergis A, et al. Simulated Trauma and Resuscitation Team Training course-evolution of a multidisciplinary trauma crisis resource man­agement simulation course. Am J Surg. 2016;212:188–1e3. https://
doi.org/10.1016/j.amjsurg.2015.07.024.
4. Gillman LM, Martin D, Engels PT, Brindley P, Widder S.French C.S.T.A.R.T.T. plus: addition of prehospital personnel to a national multidisciplinary crisis resource management trauma team training course. Can J Surg. 2015;58:010915–5.
5. Johnson GGRJ, Brindley PG, Gillman LM.Fidelity in surgical sim­ulation: further lessons from the S.T.A.R.T.T. course. Can J Surg. 2020;63:E161–3. https://doi.org/10.1503/cjs.017818.
6. Trauma Simulation in Bilingual Canada. Insurmountable barrier or unexpected strength? Insights from the rst bilingual S.T.A.R.T.T. course. Can J Surg. 2016;59:80–2. https://doi.org/10.1503/
cjs.014115.
7. Johnson GGRJ, Beaumont J, Paton-Gay JD, Widder S, Gillman LM. Multidisciplinary, multisite trauma team training during COVID-19: lessons from the rst virtual E-S.T.A.R.T.T. course. Can J Surg. 2021;64(6):E609–12. https://doi.org/10.1503/cjs.009921.
The Genesis ofCrew Resource Management: TheNASA Experience
DavidJ.Alexander
2

Humble Beginnings

The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) has been intimately involved with the process of Crew Resource Management (CRM) and one of the early innovators of the sys­tematic procedures to eliminate human error in the cockpit. The rst effort was the development of the aviation checklist. This was due to the crash of the Boeing Model 229 aircraft on October 30th, 1935. The Boeing Model 229 was an extremely complex aircraft for the time. It had many revolutionary design elements incorporated. The pilot, who had never own the Model 229, had neglected to release the elevator lock prior to takeoff. The Boeing chief test pilot aboard the aircraft, Leslie Tower, realized the error once airborne. He attempted to release the lock but was too late to save the doomed aircraft. The design was in serious jeopardy after the crash. The press had labeled the aircraft as too complex to y. Army Air Corps ofcers pleaded to proceed with the project and eventually 12 aircraft were delivered to the 2nd Bombardment Wing at Langley Aireld in Virginia. It was emphasized to the pilots that any further accidents would result in the cancellation of further orders. The pilots came together and developed four checklists. These were the Take- off, Flight, Pre-landing, and After Landing checklists. They eventually proved that the Model 229 was not “too much aircraft for a man to y”; it had systems more com­plex than any one man’s memory. These checklists were the assurance that no item was forgotten. These 12 aircraft went on to safely y 1.8million miles without a serious accident. The Model 229 went on to be developed as the B-17. It was one of the workhorse bombers of World War II and helped to destroy Nazi Germany’s war industries. The checklist was then inte­grated into subsequent Air Corps aircraft and the civilian airline industry.
Human error as a cause for an accident was placed in the
public eye again on the night of December 29th, 1972. An
D. J. Alexander (*) Johnson Space Center, Houston, TX, USA e-mail: david.j.alexander@nasa.gov
Eastern Airlines Lockheed L-1011, Flight 401 would be a sentinel event in safety. Flight 401 was en route from JFK Airport, New York, to Miami International Airport. The Lockheed L-1011 had rolled out of the factory only four months previously. This particular ight carried 163 passen­gers and 13 crewmembers. The journey was routine up until 11:32 pm. The aircraft was on approach to Miami International, and the landing gear was lowered. The land­ing gear indicator was not illuminated, indicating the gear was not down and locked. The landing gear was cycled again, and the illuminator still did not light. The light on the indicator was burned out, and the cockpit crew began replac­ing the bulb. The crew discontinued the approach and began a circling pattern to work on this problem. The second of­cer was sent into the lower avionics bay to view through a small window and conrm the gear was down. The aircraft autopilot was activated to maintain 2000 ft. During this time, the pilot accidently leaned against the yoke (control column) and changed the modes on the autopilot from alti­tude hold to CWS (Control Wheel Steering—in which the pilot controlled the pitch of that aircraft). This forward pres­sure also started the aircraft to descend. After descending 250 ft, a C-cord alarm was sounded in the cockpit. This alarm was designed to alert the crew that they had descended from their assigned altitude. The frustrated, fatigued crew who were concentrating only on the burned out light did not notice the alarm. The engineer was not on the ight deck as well and could not have heard the alarm from the avionics bay. The plane was over the Everglades at night, and there­fore, there was no ground references to indicate the plane had descended. In fty seconds, the aircraft was now down to 1000ft. The co-pilot then initiated a 180 degree turn to maintain a holding pattern and noticed the discrepancy in altitude. This triggered the following conversation .
Co-pilot: We did something to the altitude. Pilot: What? Co-pilot: We’re still at 2000ft, right? Pilot: Hey—what’s happening here?
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2025 L. Marshall Gillman, S. Widder (eds.), Trauma Team Dynamics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-86312-7_2
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D. J. Alexander
Ten seconds later, the aircraft impacted the Everglades. This resulted in the deaths of 101 persons and was the rst accident of a wide-bodied airliner. At that time, it was the second deadliest single aircraft disaster in the United States [14].
Another accident around this same time period high­lighted human error in the cockpit. United Airlines Flight 173 (UAL 173) was making its nal approach to Portland International Airport after a routine ight on December 28, 1978 [5]. The aircraft ran out of fuel and crashed into a resi­dential area, killing eight passengers and two crew members and seriously injuring 23 others. While circling, the rst of­cer and ight engineer told the pilot that the plane was run­ning low on fuel. The pilot ignored the warnings of his junior ofcers. These and other accidents aroused the interest pub­lically in accidents due to human error.
In all of the cases, the aircrafts were mechanically sound; the crews were experienced and technically competent. The system at the time simply did not catch mistakes in time to prevent these fatal errors. In 1978, the Military Inspector General determined that poor crew interactions were a major factor in aircraft accidents. NASA then led the way to change the aviation community to prevent these accidents from occurring. In 1979, NASA conducted the Resource Management on the Flightdeck workshop at the Ames Research Center [6, 7]. NASA had for many years been con­ducting research into human factors and performance in aviation since the early 1970s at the Ames Research Center. In 1973, interviews with aircrews were conducted, and this highlighted the lack of training for airline Captains in leader­ship. H.P.Ruffel-Smith (1979) conducted a 747 simulator­based study on human behavior [8]. He found that in both routine and emergency simulations, the better the cockpit resources were utilized and using effective crew communica­tions, the better the performance in the cockpit. Several other studies suggested that incorporating “Crew Resource Management” into routine ight operations training would greatly aid in preventing these accidents. During the work­shop, it was soon discovered that 60–80% of aviation acci­dents were the result of human error. Clearly the aviation industry had to change. After another NASA/Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) workshop conducted in January 1981, the FAA began incorporating a CRM platform into its regulatory program. United Airlines was the rst to add CRM into its training syllabus in 1981.

A New Paradigm Is Born

Crew Resource Management does not focus on technical aptitude or skills. CRM focuses on cognitive and interper­sonal communication needed to organize a complex aviation
environment. Cognitive skills focus on situational awareness, planning, and decision-making. Situational awareness pro­vides an organized way to recognize salient factors and con­ditions that affect the safe operation of the aircraft. Planning takes the decision construction process across all phases of the ight. This also incorporates subordinate input into the decision formation process but still maintains a hierarchical structure with the Captain retaining authority and responsibil­ity for the ight. Interpersonal skills concentrate on commu­nications and team building. Essential to CRM is communication. Research has proven that good communica­tion not only transfers accurate information but helps to build a unied understanding of the problems at hand. It helps everyone to build a mental model of the environment and enhances situational awareness. Team building incorporates the entire crew’s skills and experience, resulting in the com­bined efforts far exceeding the capability of one individual. Emotional climate and stress management skills are also taught in CRM training. Research showed that the creation of a positive tone on the ight deck enhanced the cognitive and interpersonal prociencies of the crew. Stress management in the cockpit can be managed by an organizational culture that efciently assigns tasks and establishes priorities. This also incorporates the empowerment of subordinates by training them in the skills that will enable them to take on additional responsibility when the circumstances demand it.
The airlines embraced CRM training as well as the mili­tary. NASA took these concepts and incorporated them into the shuttle training program. One aspect of CRM was simula­tion training in the management of complex contingency oper­ations that occur in spaceight. These had been incorporated into the NASA culture since the earliest phases of spaceight. From Mercury through today’s International Space Station training, simulators have been a mainstay of spaceight prac­tice. NASA has also learned hard lessons from its failures. The Challenger accident highlighted several lapses in the NASA “Safety Culture” that contributed to the disaster. The investi­gation highlighted NASA’s and Morton Thiokol’s failure to respond to the design aw of the O-rings in the Solid Rocket boosters. Rather than redesign the joint, it was dened as an acceptable ight risk. This was the “Normalization of Deviancy” or the violation of standards of practice repeatedly such that they actually become routine over time. This occurs by errors, lapses, or mistakes that go unattended, unappreci­ated, or unresolved for an extended period of time. The report also impugned the decision to launch. It cited numerous fail­ures in communication that resulted in a decision to launch 51-L.The decision was based on “incomplete and sometimes misleading information, a conict between engineering data and management judgments, and a NASA management struc­ture that permitted internal ight safety problems to bypass key Shuttle managers” [9] .
2 The Genesis ofCrew Resource Management: TheNASA Experience
9
Attention once again focused on the attitude of NASA management toward safety issues in 2003, after the Space Shuttle Columbia loss. The Columbia Accident Investigation Board (CAIB) deduced that NASA had not incorporated the lessons of Challenger. One highlight was that the agency had not set up a truly independent ofce for safety oversight. The CAIB concluded that in this area, “NASA’s response to the Rogers Commission did not meet the Commission’s intent” [10]. The CAIB believed that “the causes of the institutional failure responsible for Challenger have not been xed” [10]. They declared that the same “awed decision making pro­cess” that had culminated in the Challenger accident was at fault for Columbia’s destruction. The Challenger and Columbia accidents are now used as case studies in how sev­eral concepts in CRM broke down. The lessons for NASA were breakdowns in communication, lapses in group decision making and most importantly, revealed the dangers of group­think (in which the desire for conformity or amity in a group results in a deviant or awed decision-making conclusion).
NASA continues to improve the CRM process. The shut­tle crews incorporated CRM directly into their training. These Shuttle Transportation System (STS) crews under­went numerous case simulations of normal and emergent situations. These incorporated the lessons learned from avia­tion and the shuttle accidents. These were incorporated into CRM for the entire shuttle operational teams. The crews were together for several years prior to launching. This included not only the mission’s onboard crewmembers, but the Mission Control Teams dedicated to the particular mis­sions. Numerous crew bonding activities to promote com­munication and team building were incorporated in to training regimens. Events such as the National Environmental Leadership School (NOLS) classes to teach leadership became important in astronaut training. These sessions incorporate leadership curriculum, outdoor ethics, and wil­derness skills to help develop good leadership and communi­cation. NASA management also undergoes CRM training to produce a true safety culture. These lessons are still integral to the International Space Station training and the future mis­sion culture of NASA.
Medicine has also learned from these experiences in avia­tion. Helmreich and Schafer proposed using the NASA­inspired Crew Resource Management from the airline industry in operating rooms [11]. Subsequent to that in 1999, Sexton etal. compared ight crew interactions with operating room staff. This extensive multiyear study showed a remarkable dif­ference in the attitudes about teamwork. The surgical staff showed that the surgical attendings and residents reported high levels of teamwork, but the ancillary staff (anesthesiol­ogy attendings, residents, nurses, and OR nurses) reported exceptionally low levels of teamwork. A signicant amount of attending surgeons preferred the use of steep hierarchies (with
junior team members being limited in questioning the deci­sions and actions of a superior). This was in stark contrast to the airline crews, instilled with the Crew Resource Management styles, who 94% preferred the at hierarchies (in which junior members are encouraged to voice concerns about the senior members choices and decisions) [12]. The study also revealed the attitudes toward fatigue. A vast majority of the surgical staff agreed with the statement “Even when fatigued, I per­form effectively during critical times.” In stark contrast, only 26% of the ight crews agreed with that statement [12]. In 2000, a landmark report from the Institutes of Medicine (IOM) was released that sparked a large amount of public debate. The report “To Err Is Human: Building a Safer Health System” examined medical errors in healthcare systems. The report cited results from Colorado and Utah that up to 44,000 people died due to medical errors. It then went on to refer to one NewYork study, which indicated that up to 98,000 died due to errors in the medical system [12]. The report then concluded emphatically “healthcare is a decade or more behind other high-risk industries in its attention to ensuring basic safety.” These lead to public outcries which subsequently lead to President Bill Clinton executing an executive order to require federal departments to develop safer practices in healthcare [13]. This lead to the Joint Commission on Accreditation for Healthcare Organizations (JCAHO) to support aviation team­work applications in training programs for hospitals [14, 15].
The Sexton study and several other papers around that time triggered numerous changes to training programs, which incorporated aviation-inspired Crew Resource Management. Critical areas such as the Emergency Departments, Operating Suites, and Labor/Delivery were identied as those areas that could benet from CRM train­ing [1618]. Anesthesiology incidents that were related to human error were proclaimed to be as high as 65–70% [15]. This prompted the VA Palo Alto Healthcare System and Stanford University to develop the Anesthesia Crisis Resource Management (ACRM) system based on CRM [16,
19]. The Army Research Laboratory and Dynamics Research
Corporation developed the MedTeams behavior-based team­work system. This drove military-based aviation experience into the Emergency Medicine training [18]. This system was expanded into labor and delivery units. The system eventu­ally drove specic training and assessment tools incorpo­rated into the Emergency Team Coordination Course. Similar to aviation CRM, the entire philosophy was centered on avoiding errors, ensnaring errors when they occurred, and mitigating all the consequences of decisions and actions that may have been taken in error. Peer monitoring is critical in all the medical CRM approaches. This insures maintaining adequate situational awareness during essential dynamic medical procedures. This then aids in incorporating good practices into procedures and improving training programs.